The Corsair's Companions
by randompandemic
Summary: ‚I love biographies. You need a good death. Without death there'd only be comedies. Death gives us size.'
1. Prologue - The End

_**Prologue - The End**_

* * *

_**‚I love biographies. You need a good death. Without death there'd only be comedies. Death gives us size.'**_

** The Tenth Doctor, from ‚Silence In The Library'**

* * *

He followed her to the end of the Universe. If that didn't say more than a thousand words ever could about him, he didn't know how to make it _any_ clearer. Oh how often people had told him that despite two hearts beating in his chest he was a creature without love, without compassion. Yet he followed an absurd, impossible message, a lifeline, out into the great, vast nothing that is space. His two hearts had no love for others left because he had given all of it to her. And now here he was. Clinging to the pathetic hope that she had survived the Time War, that she had escaped it, somehow, maybe. That she had found shelter away from it all and was now waiting for him, somewhere out here, so they might finally share the life she had always wanted. A simpler life. Just the two of them, a small house on a little moon, a huge library. Children. Oh, children. Now that he might have wasted his last chance, he realised how much he would have liked to have children. The only adventure that he had been denied. The only adventure his old friend, the Doctor, had embarked on where he never dared. He had been too scared. Now it was, perhaps, too late.

He had left Earth one last time. The laughter of his... well, dare he call them friends? Their voices, their songs, their laughter, still hanging in the air on his ship yet now there was just painful silence. He had left behind the roaring 1920ies, jazz music, flapper dresses, and cold smoke. He had said farewell to the two he left behind there, one Captain Jack Harkness and one Sally Sparrow. Strangers in that time, just like he had been. He offered to take them back to their time – Jack to the 51st century and Sally back to the year 2007. Both had refused. They had their lives here, they were happy enough. Jack was waiting for 'his' Doctor, who he knew would come eventually. And Sally had family in this new life of hers, where the Angels had taken her.

After leaving them, he had returned to 2013 just once, just briefly, just to check on them. Abby and Lee. He hadn't shown himself, hadn't spoken to them, just watched to make sure they were alright. They were doing great. A little house in the suburbs, a cat, a dog, a child on the way, Abby was writing again and Lee was keeping everything in the house in order. They were fine, they'd have a great life. He left them a note, one they might find within hours, maybe days, maybe it would be years. Letting them know he was happy for them, so very happy. Then he left.

For the first time he really understood the Doctor. When the adventures were lived and the friends, the _companions,_ moved on with their lives, the Time Lord was who stayed behind alone. Forever. Yet no matter how lonely one was, the memory of such friendships was worth the pain. It took him nine regenerations to understand what a child like the Doctor had known all along. But finally, he _did_ understand it.

He approached the coordinates transmitted by the glowing hypercube he had received. The signal was stronger out here and he could determine without a doubt that the writing was Circular-Gallifreyan. The beautiful language of his people, one he had not thought to ever see again. The complex words, like the complicated and delicate insides of a watch. Or – as an Akhaten poet had once put it – _'The Lords of Gallifrey write in time'_.

The hypercube he had intercepted had only one message written in it. _'Find me'_. He had dropped everything he had been doing and set course to find her at the end of the universe. He knew it had to be her.

It had been a moderately uneventful journey until he was caught in turbulence. The _Ouroboros_ – his loyal TARDIS – was heavily shaking in the currents, sparks flying from the main console and he realised once again, painfully so, how difficult it was to navigate a ship like her alone. Over thousands of years he had developed a certain routine but he still remembered the time when they had been two pilots. It had been so much easier. How much more comfortable it would have been to have a proper crew, he could barely imagine, it had been so long ago. But no one had been crazy enough (with one exception) and now it was too late. They were all gone. Or almost all of them, as it would seem.

A heavy explosion shook the ship, he cursed under his breath, and moments later, the lights died.

"What the-?!"

The consoles were down, all those blinking lights had risen in one last, desperate sigh and then she was gone. With a curse he leapt towards the console, his sonic-multi-tool in hands and he opened the main control panel. The circuits were fine, no cables burned, no wires ripped. Everything in order. Then why were they in free fall? The ship was leaning disastrously and he stumbled halfway through the bridge, catching a pillar to hold on to for dear life. On impact, he hit two ribs painfully, all air pressed from his lungs. They were tossed in the tides of space, intergalactic storms, chaos, no up and no down, just...

She was dead. His TARDIS was dead. The realisation hit him like a punch in the stomach, nauseating, even before he crash-landed with his ship. The last flight of the Ouroboros came to an abrupt, cruel end.

Silence fell. A small eternity passed before he trusted his knees enough to stand. He approached the main console, gently brushing his fingertips over it. He felt no life, no warmth, no soul in it. She was gone. So many aeons had she been his one lasting, faithful companion and now she was... As if she just vanished. Abandoning him somewhere. That consciousness that made a TARDIS so much more than any other ship was just... gone.

He turned away and quickly, light on his feet, jumped up the few steps to the door. Time to figure out where he was.

He stepped outside. Beyond the ship lay a dark, barren, uncomfortable landscape, rough rocks, the darkness of space in the sky – no stars, no signs of direction. He could make out the hollow bones of ancient ships, technology from long before he was born and from far in the future. A bone yard of ships, lost in time, neither here nor there, neither now nor then.

He stepped away from his own ship and turned towards it, looked at the blunt, plain exterior, just a large, grey cylinder with a door, the raw state of a TARDIS, as cold and dull on the outside as she now was on the inside. The chameleon circuit had failed, his usually fancy ship was reduced to just its parts.

He raised his tool above his head, taking measures. The atmosphere was good enough to breathe without concerns – not brilliant, but acceptable – but he could not make out any coordinates. It was as if...

Oh, but of course! A separate universe! Which meant that his TARDIS was not per se _dead_ but had lost the energy she needed to fly, had lost the connection. She was drained. With the right tools he might be able to fix her. And where better to find the tools than on a bone yard? He didn't need much, just enough for one little jump out of this messed up parallel universe, back to his own.

He pulled his brows down. What could have motivated the Time Lords to come to a place like this? Had they been searching for something? Was _she_ still here?

When he turned to look around, he spotted them. Two humanoid looking creatures approaching slowly, reluctantly. He could guess they were wearing rags and as they came closer he could see their faces, scarred and strange.

"Who goes there?" he called over at them. In one quick move, he had his sonic gun drawn and pointing at the strangers.

"A new fellow. There's still some out there, Uncle. House will be pleased," the female mumbled.

"I am armed! I am here to speak with the Librarian. Immediately."

"Librarian? We have no Librarians here. There is _no one_ here. Just us. And House," the male called back at him.

"I followed her hypercube, I know she's here. Let me speak to her and no one will get hurt!"

He didn't like this situation. Something about this place made him increasingly uncomfortable. And these two figures did not make it easier to relax. His hopes of finding her, of having that peaceful future she had always envisioned, was beginning to fade. Instead he was quite certain now that she had called him here to save her. That it had not been an invitation, but a distress signal.

"Hypercube? Hyper... oh, he comes to find a Time Lady? How romantic."

"Look at him, Uncle. He is so tall and so strong. Such broad shoulders. Such a handsome face. He'll be good. We'll put him to good use, this one."

"Yes, Auntie, yes, we will."

The female came closer and with every step she took, he realised how strangely she moved. As if the parts didn't fit. The scar on her face split her in two and he realised the skin on one side was paler than on the other. And one side had freckles. One eye was brown, the other green. Her hands... one was that of a woman, the other a man. They were assembled from parts. Stitched together hastily, like the messy clothes they were wearing. His gaze wandered to the male quickly. He, too, was a compilation of parts that didn't fit, with whatever material they had available.

And then he realised. The material that was available... the scarps they used to fix themselves... they were pieces of the other people who had shipwrecked here, just like him. He took a step back, the female another step towards him and suddenly, surprising her just as much, her hand shot forward, reaching for him and touching his cheek.

And his hearts shattered into millions of pieces right there and then. He knew this hand. He knew these fingertips, gentle on his skin. The most bizarre, most terrifying moment of his long existence. That her hand, the only thing left of her, still remembered him. He closed his eyes, feeling the impossible pain in his chest as he felt everything he thought worth living for die right there. He fell to his knees, couldn't breathe, held on to her hand, squeezing it, holding it to his cheek to never lose that last touch. How far he had come for her. Survived the Time War, the terrors of all of time and space... only to lose her after all. As spare parts for vagabonds. The memory was destroying him. When he looked up he gave in to the illusion that it was her face smiling at him, that it was her voice. He could hear her, the words she had always said to him when he had secretly come to see her with yet another new face.

_"I would always recognise you, my Corsair."_

Who would have thought that it could hurt so much to lose her again. Just when he had gotten over the idea that she had been lost on Gallifrey, with all the others.

The female just stood there and he didn't even really see her. He just held her hand, brought it to his lips once, almost certain he could still feel the warmth of her touch, the memory so clear as if it had been yesterday.

"What are you doing, foolish Time Lord. Shoot us. Kill us and run for your life," the female whispered, shaking her head, confused by his reaction. Why would he lower his weapon, why would he resign so easily? He knew what they were, she saw it in his eyes. He knew why they had lured him here. When he looked up again he saw the male pulling a huge butchers knife. The lips of the Time Lord curled up into that smile. That smile that could disarm empires and charm Kings and Queens alike.

"What for? What life? My people are gone, my ship is dead, the woman I love is dead... There is nothing left for me in all of time and space. Kill me. Go ahead, don't hold back. So at least we can share death, if we couldn't share our lives."

For one moment, just a glimpse, he saw pity in the female's eyes. A look he did not want to see, a look he didn't deserve. "Kill me!" he screamed at them, pulling her closer by the hand that wasn't hers at all. The male grabbed him by the shoulder and he saw the knife flash before him as it struck down and –

Just Names. Anju. Doctor. River. Halim. Oswin. Rory. Hedwig. Jack. Sally. Lee. Abby. His Abby. And Flavia. His Flavia. The last memory he saw. Red hair and green eyes, and her smile, and her voice.

_"I would always recognise you."_

And so it ends, the legend of the Corsair of Gallifrey.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

_I am being brave. I am trying to write a Doctor Who Fanfiction centring on the Corsair as he was characterised by Neil Gaiman. i want to look at his adventures, his role in the Time War, his friendship with the Doctor, his various regenerations - male and female - and the people whose lives he touched. Neil Gaiman said the Corsair never took companions the way the Doctor did but saved people and never stayed long enough to receive their gratitude. I am changing this a bit, just a bit, in that he will have three people he would consider 'friends'. The Doctor, the Time Lady Flavia (I have NOT seen most of Classic Who, so bear with me), and a human girl named Abby, my OC, who will be the closest thing to a permanent companion he ever had and who is a writer, so in a way, she tells his story..._

_If you want to know the main headcanons I am using for this fic, check out Neil Gaiman's _'Eleven things you probably didn't know about the Corsair'_ - it's a lovely read and insanely inspiring! _

_This is basically something I wanted to write for quite a while now and when I have the time, every now and then, I will update with new adventures. But because I don't want 'Blinding' to suffer from it, it might not update so regularly. Still, I'd love comments and messages and maybe let me know what_ you_ imagine the Corsair to be like._ _Also, I will introduce each new regeneration on my tumblr, so keep an eye out for that!_

_**Disclaimer:** I do NOT own Doctor Who (duh) or the Corsair. _


	2. The Thief

**Act I, Chapter I: The Thief**

* * *

_Dear Friend._

_When you find this letter, it is the end of our story. And what a great story it was! _

_I came to see you and I saw happiness. I am glad you found it, very few in this universe deserve it more than you. We have been through much, have we not? More than you know. There are things you don't know yet. When you read this, it means there is at least one meeting still to happen for you. Perhaps the last for you, and the first for me. Maybe soon, maybe in a while, you will find me and you will save me. That will be the end of our shared story and at the same time the beginning of it. You know how it is with time. It's a non-subjective, non-linear, rather incoherent and confusing thing. Everything happens every time, somewhere. Don't forget that. Our story ends, but it never really does. _

_When we first met, I showed you a book, remember? I never told you what was in it, just that you had written it. The truth is, it was a book with all your letters. All those letters you never gave me. Every single one, ever word, every line. You thought you'd never get a chance to show them to me, but you did. I read them all. Each one at its time. _

_You, Abigail Ellen McIntyre, have written yourself to my heart. Forever. These letters are immortal. You are never forgotten. Thank you for writing them, thank you for writing history, and our story. _

_Thank you. And even though I have a strange way of showing it, I want you to know that I love you._

_Corsair_

* * *

"Seize him!"

They yelled all across the courtyard, causing uproar among the people gathered there. What was supposed to be a day of celebration turned into chaos as armed guards rushed across the court of the government palace towering in the heart of the Citadel. The busy court, full of colourful market stands, was disrupted. Goods were flying, people screaming.

And he made his way through the crowd. A man, perhaps in his early thirties, very dark of skin, his hair cut very short. He was wearing the robes of a chancellor, way too much fabric to move properly so he had gathered the long, heavy, dark red robes in his arms while he was running. He had long since discarded of the impractical, stiff collar that usually went with these robes. And he was laughing. Oh he was laughing, the wild, careless laughter of a madman. Over one shoulder, he carried a document case, what was in it, no one knew. But they assumed. They assumed it was a painting, cut from its huge frame in the office of the President himself. Which might well be the reason why he was being pursued by council guards. Yes, stealing from the President of Gallifrey might cause such a pursuit.

The Time Lord known as the Corsair was known throughout the seven systems as a force to be reckoned with. He had always been unpredictable, always been different from other Time Lords. But this time he had taken it one step too far.

President Borusa was _fuming_. He was raving in his chambers, from where the painting had been removed. Now his men were chasing the culprit. Where he would run to, he didn't even know. He was just running, for his life probably. He had no intention of spending the rest of time in prison. There was one thing he could do. He needed to get into the hangars underneath the city and get his hands on a TARDIS. Off through time and space, no way for them to track him. There was just one problem. He couldn't get into the hangars undetected. If he used his own access card, they'd shut everything down instantly and he'd be trapped. Not going to happen. No, he had to get into the hangar some other way. Probably – while he was on a roll – he'd have to steal someone's access card. Although more often than not, he was actually handed things. Stealing was such a heavily judgmental term. He was really just _borrowing_ things.

In one impressively elegant leap, he had flown across a stand, bringing some distance between him and his pursuers to re-evaluate his course. To get to the hangars, he'd have to get into the Academy. A building he knew very well, each tower and hallway looked essentially the same to a stranger but if one had spent their entire youth there, one learned to navigate it. And after all, he was one of the best, wasn't he? Stared into the schism, brave and true, rising above the madness that consumed many. Graduating the Academy with excellence. Commanding a fleet of Time Lords – back when they had still bothered to get involved – into battle against the Adarre. The final battle, the decisive battle, the last battle they had fought against their oldest enemy and he had come out of it victorious. A war hero. Now where had he ended up? Sneaking into the Academy to steal a TARDIS. His former mentor would turn in his grave if he knew. He probably did know, with time travellers one could never be all too sure.

He reached the entrance to the Academy. A very quiet place it was, the endless, bright hallways, the classrooms, he could see children sitting in neat rows, listening to their teachers. Teenagers, listening to their practice instructors, smaller research groups studying in small tutorial rooms.

Temporal research students of the Arcalian college in their green and brown robes. The Patrex students, the college of artists in their lightly purple robes, he had never taken them quite serious. And of course the Prydonians in their flaming scarlet robes – oh he remembered his own years in this college fondly. Engineers, navigators, pilots, physicists, mathematicians, linguists, there were many directions the study at the Academy could take and a bit of everything was needed to navigate a TARDIS. Briefly, he wondered whether he'd even be able to steal a ship, on his own. How would he fly it? But the calls of the council guard distracted him.

"There he is, don't let him escape!" one yelled. The Corsair laughed and was on his way again, running for dear life, trying to figure out where best to find the access card.

* * *

The bright hall of the central library lay deeply quiet except for the occasional swishing of long robes only graduates wore. Countless pupils were sitting on desks, hidden behind piles of books.

The Librarian led a group of children through an aisle between high bookshelves. The children walked in pairs behind her, boys and girls in the uniforms of their respective colleges, the ones they had joined after passing their initiation. They had not chosen their names yet, were referred to by designated combinations of numbers and letters and the Librarian had taken to calling them by their very last designation.

Right behind her were two little boys in the red of the Prydonians and they were, as per usual for this college, up to no good. They were teasing the other scholars, trying to make them trip on their first introduction to the library system, but the Librarian had her eye on them, well aware of their mischief.

She was a woman who did not like to be messed with. Stern and proud, and she had her library under firm control. The Librarian was a tall woman, despite the several centuries she counted now, centuries one could barely see on her face, she looked like an average, late 50something, but had three regenerations to show for already. Her hair, put together in complicated knots and twists, was still flaming red like it was common for time-sensitive beings such as her. A woman who, if she wanted to, could be a player in the topmost levels of politics of Gallifrey. But that was not something she enjoyed. The Librarian was a Patrex, an artist, a woman of song, music, poetry, she did not like to worry for the politics of their grand empire. As long as her library was in order, she was content. Mess with her library though and she would turn into a tyrant.

The Librarian was wrapped in fine robes, purple and silver, her high collar beautifully decorated, the fabric of her robe covered in delicate stitches with a remarkable level of detail depicting a fairy tale like scene from her home regions folklore. She had come from a wealthy, influential family and of course her parents were disappointed that their only child did not follow their footsteps in the Arcalian or Prydonian colleges. But she was happy here.

"Ma'am, how are we supposed to access these books?" a girl eventually asked. The Librarian turned towards her.

"Well, Ushas, you are not supposed to access these books here at all. It will be years before you'll be able to make sense of them and when the time comes, when you're ready you will get the access codes to these shelves from me. Not a day sooner."

"How will you even know when I'm ready?"

"I'll know," the Librarian replied confidently. Just as she wanted to continue, she witnessed the two Prydonian boys teasing another pupil, great amusement in their voices, both boys looking every bit as if they wanted to climb up the shelves. She grabbed both of them by their skinny necks. "Theta Sigma, Koschei! Why is it when there is trouble, it's always you two in the middle of it?"

"We didn't do anything!" Theta Sigma - the smaller, skinnier boy with dark hair and freckles - protested.

"I will not have this behaviour in my Library. You two will be called to detention with the vice-dean later tonight and I expect to see an essay on behaviour in the Library by tomorrow. Do you know how to behave in a library?"

"Yes, Ma'am!" the other boy - slightly taller than his friend, and fair of hair - declared.

"Really? Because your behaviour suggests you have been raised by flubbles. In my Library, people want to work and study, so there should not be any talking, much less screaming and teasing and most certainly no run-"

Before the words fully left her lips, one warning finger raised at the two boys, a group of uniformed council guards ran behind her, past the library, screaming and shouting and their weapons clattering noisily. The Librarian, who had frozen in the very position she had been in while scolding the two boys, drew in a few deep breaths to calm herself as some of the older students sitting and reading in working groups looked up irritated. She was clearly just a few fuses short of a massive explosion and it took her a great deal of self-control to not forget her own rules. She forced a smile to her face when she let the two boys go. "Excuse me for a minute or two. Nobody moves!" she ordered, then turned and left the group of initiates to follow the council guards. The men had, by then, already left the central library and were storming down a corridor, yelling at each other:

"Find him! He can't hide in here, he can't have gotten far!"

"Gentlemen!" the firm voice of the Librarian cut through the corridor. The men froze, flew around and saluted.

"Good evening, Ma'am!"

The Librarian approached the men in quick, wide steps, her robe floating over the polished floor. "Gentlemen, you do all realise the Academy is a place for study. Our students are extremely concentrated and under a lot of pressure from exam committees to perform with the highest possible results. You do also realise that running around here, screaming, is extremely distracting and hence unacceptable?"

"Apologies, Ma'am. We're chasing a thief. A painting has been stolen from the President and we're trying to capture the thief before he can smuggle it out of the city."

"And it helps catching this thief by running around yelling? I would imagine this makes it easier for him to hide, knowing where and when you come for him because you've announced yourselves so very vocal, hm?"

The men gasped, exchanged confused looks, then bowed.

"I-indeed, Ma'am. Apologies again for the disturbance. If you see anything suspicious, please let the guard know."

"I shall. Now if you'll excuse me, I have two marauders to drag to the Dean."

The men bowed again when the Librarian turned and floated away, returning to where she had left the group of initiates. She placed her hands on the shoulders of both Theta Sigma and Koschei. "Now, you two."

And with little more than that did she escort the two young boys to the office of the vice-dean so he may decide about their appropriate punishment.

* * *

Night fell over the shining Citadel of Time Lords, the city under the dome. The Academy was quiet, almost entirely abandoned. There was light in the office of the vice-dean, where he had two boys sitting and writing their essays in detention. And light in the office of the Librarian, who was going through the track records of borrowed books to formulate reminders to the younger students to return the books, because the student in their final years of training might need them to prepare for their final examination.

Her office overlooked the central library, a wide front of windows allowing her to see the library below her like a landscape, mountains and valleys of the history of the universe, collected in the arguably oldest library. _Arguably,_ because the Adarre claimed the same about _their_ library. An old feud they liked to tease each other with nowadays over canapés or dinner at diplomatic meetings.

She thought she saw the door to her office move but when she looked up, she was alone. A moment she quietly stared, waiting, making sure there really was no one there. Only then did she return to her work. She sent an order to the printer and just got up from her huge office chair when someone caught her, a hand over her lips. The Librarian gasped.

"Shhhhh, I just came to borrow something from you," a smooth voice declared and before she knew it, he had taken the access card she wore around her neck. The man stepped away from her and she caught a glimpse of him. Tall, athletic, handsome, a lot younger than her but not as young as his appearance suggested. She rolled her eyes.

"Hoban. Also known as the Corsair. i should have known when the council guard stormed my library today. War hero, now thief. How the mighty have fallen."

He grinned, his teeth a bright, white, perfect row in his dark face.

"You always were my favourite teacher, Ma'am."

"Where do you hope to get with that?" she asked, rolling her eyes even more at his flattery.

"Into the hangar. I know you have access to it. You are, whether you like it or not, a council member."

"Why would you do something so foolish? What did you even steal?"

He smirked and took the document case off his back. He quickly opened the lid, pulled out the scroll in it and bowed closer so the Librarian could inspect the bounty he presented so proudly. She knew the colour pattern, the brush technique, he didn't even have to unroll it. She raised a ginger brow.

"The Rassilon portrait? From President Borusa's office?"

"The very same," the Corsair confirmed, his pride unclouded in his voice. The Librarian could not suppress the slight chuckle as she shook her head in disbelief.

"You are an impossible man, Corsair."

"Cannot be tamed," he confirmed with a youthful smirk and spark in his eyes. Then he winked at her, with the key card between two fingers. "Thanks for this, Ma'am."

And gone he was.

* * *

Access to the hangar was so easy it bordered on the ridiculous. He almost missed the challenge. But he should have known that the Librarian would report the theft. He should have seen it coming.

The hangar was abandoned, before him stretched a giant hall, filled with ships. The best ships. TARDIS' ships, the very best of the batch. Grown over centuries. The outdated models were on the floor below, the ones up here were fine, new pieces, the equipment the best they could get. He walked down the corridors of blunt, boring looking metal blocks, deceiving of the _magic_ inside them. He walked past them, one hand gently brushing the cool outside walls. He was waiting for a sign, knew that he couldn't just take _any_ TARDIS. He had to find the right one for him. TARDIS' ships were like cats; They chose their owner, not the other way around. And he –

A door slid open. He stopped and turned, found a ship had opened up to him, the lights from inside visible. A smile curled up his lips as he wandered closer.

"Hello beautiful..." he whispered as he stepped into the ship. She was a marvellous TX type 9, mark 10. One of the finest, he dare say. Beautiful to look at. The console room, the first room stepped into, was a large dome supported by pillars, the central console a gigantic, circular terminal marked with circular-gallifreyan writing. It had never been used. She was brand new, probably just out of breeding. "Oh, we're going to have a great time together, you and me..." he whispered to the console. Then, with quick steps, he left the ship to release the brakes still on it. And the next thing he knew, he was face first on the floor, a guardsman sitting on his back, weapons pointed at him.

"Corsair, you are by the laws of President Borusa under arrest for breaking and entering the presidential quarters and stealing the President's property. You have right to legal representation at court, but you will spend at least the next month under arrest."

He didn't respond, just laughed, almost disappointed in himself. He was losing his edge, wasn't he?

"What gave me away?"

"Shouldn't have used a council member's access card."

He nodded weakly. He really shouldn't have.

* * *

**Author's Note: **

Woohooo! We're on Gallifrey! I hope I didn't mess it up too much, I haven't seen much of Classic Who, all I know of Gallifrey is what we've seen on New Who and what I could research on the internet. But since the Doctor reset the Universe anyways, I figured things might be different on Gallifrey as well. Bear with me.

I will write this fanfiction in nine Act's - one for each regeneration of the Corsair. Every Act will begin with a letter. The letters will make sense later, promise!

If you like what you're reading and you want to read more, see how the story of the Corsair continues, let me know in a review or a message.

* * *

**Disclaimer:** I do NOT own Doctor Who or the Corsair but I love everything about it.


	3. The Ouroboros Letters

**Act I, Chapter II: The Ouroboros Letters**

* * *

He had been brought before the council after spending a month in a tiny cell, the only people he saw being the cleaning lady of the council guard building and a security warden. Apparently there was some disagreement among the council about his fate. Some wanted to see him rot in a cell, others wanted to ship him off to a slave planet, a hand full couldn't understand why on Gallifrey they were so hung up on a silly portrait. He could only agree with this latter, little voice in the council.

But eventually judgement was made.

He looked up when he heard the doors slide open and head the distinct march of guardsmen approach. Moments later they appeared, accompanied by the Librarian herself. In a lush, majestic gown in light lavender and gold, her hair in a fantastic updo, half surrounded by the magnificent collar. She used her access card to open the bars of his cell.

"I take it I am not free to go?" the Corsair inquired.

"I'm afraid not. You are to be transported to Aduín 5."

"The oil drilling planet," he whispered with a weak nod. He had heard rumours of the desert world at the uncivilised edge of the seven systems. They were not nice rumours. It was a dreadful place, harsh, deadly to most, the working and living conditions were terrible, the indigenous creatures even more so. Well, that was a great fate to look forward to. He looked up.

"I am truly sorry," the Librarian admitted.

"You voted for me?"

"I _spoke_ for you, Corsair. Whether you like it or not, you have done great things for Gallifrey and they need to count for something – even though _you_ try to throw away who you are. Now get up."

He sighed and did as he was commanded. He stepped towards the Librarian and the guards who would escort him to the prisoner transport. Yet on his way, she caught his arm. He looked down at the older woman confused and could just see her slip something into his hand. He looked down at the small weight in his hand. A key. Small, silver, unimposing, like any ordinary old key. But it wasn't. It was a TARDIS key. The Librarian didn't look at him but turned away to close the cell again while he quietly followed the men out of the building.

* * *

It was night in Gallifrey when the Corsair was taken to the harbour where he would board a low-class spaceship that would take him to the edge. It was at least a year of travel out there, to Aduín 5, and not a comfortable journey either. No one spoke as he was taken to the harbour situated below the city, from where ships would be launched into the atmosphere. He looked around quietly, well aware that it might be the last time. He had only two options. Spend the rest of his life on Aduín 5 as a slave, drilling oil for the inner planets of the seven systems. Or take whatever TARDIS the Librarian had picked for him and run.

And running, well that was something the Time Lords had always excelled at.

It was a long shot to wait with his escape until they were in the harbour already but he had not questioned her choice, had been certain if she had given him this particular key it had to be for a ship in an area he would be able to reach without complication. And maybe someday he would get the opportunity to show his gratitude for her boldness.

He waited until they had uncuffed him before he did what he did best. Turn into an uncatchable piece of soap in the hands of the law. He overwhelmed two guards immediately and before the others could even think of reacting, he was already running. A group of TARDIS ships had been stationed down here, new ones, probably for the practical piloting training of some young scholars of the Academy. And there was a moment when he almost dashed right past the one. But there she was. His TARDIS. Or, well, she would be his someday. He slid the key in the small lock, the door swung open and he rushed inside, closed it quickly behind him and locked it. He sighed relieved and only then he turned around. Well. She wasn't as beautiful as the one he had seen in the hangar the other day. But oh she was a marvel as well. The lighting a little more orange, like the skies of Gallifrey, the consoles a little more nostalgic while the other ship had been rather minimalistic. Three doors led away from the console room and he would map the ship later, now he first had to get out of her.

With two long strides he climbed to the main console, checked all configurations and then charged the temporal shifters, vortex manipulator, and released the manual brake. She was purring beautifully and he laughed a triumphant laugh. With one quick move he pulled down the surveillance screen, saw the guardsmen attempting to enter his new ship, but failing miserably. And then they were gone. He pushed the screen away because there was nothing out there but the wild colours of the time vortex. The ship was flying smooth; he could hardly feel the otherwise turbulent tides of the vortex. It felt like the old days.

"Where should we go then?!" he asked aloud, half expecting a crew to respond before he remembered that there was no crew. He rushed around the console to check the coordinates, plan the route. And that was when things started to get complicated. He couldn't be everywhere at once and she was a temperamental lady, this TARDIS. Abandoning one of the six main task posts made her act up immediately. He was grumbling to himself as he began leaping around the console, alarms flashing all over the place. "I am _trying,_ alright?! You could show some cooperation!"

But she didn't. On the contrary, she made it more difficult. She began shutting down various functions, forcing him to manually set them up again. Sparks began flying, the core was overheating. She was burning up! There was a heavy, loud bell ringing from deep within the ship, a final warning signal and he did the only thing he could possibly think of. He unplugged her.

Everything went dark and he was in free fall. He held on to the console for dear life and admittedly began counting the seconds to his first regeneration. And they crashed. Somewhere, somewhen.

* * *

The garden was destroyed. Not only a little messed up, but destroyed. It looked like a bomb had gone off there, nothing left of her flowers, her tomatoes, beans, cucumbers, her salad. She sighed frustrated as she stepped over a burning piece of wood that might once have been her garden shed. A pillar of smoke and dying flames was reaching up into the sky and there was a huge pile of metal, a cylindrical shape. She walked closer carefully, warmth still coming off the pile. She knew this construction. There were markings on the metal, a language she knew. Circular-Gallifreyan. Carefully, she placed a hand on the metal. It was cool, very smooth, but still the most impenetrable metal in the universe. And it remembered her. A smile flickered over her lips.

"Hey, beautiful Lady... it's been a while..." she whispered as she leaned closer, placed her cheek on the outer shell of the TARDIS she knew so well. She could feel the life in it, could feel it breathe, sense its heart beat deep, deep within this ancient, powerful, _magical_ ship. "What are you doing out here, hm? And dressed like that? You look terrible," she teased. And then the door fell open. She jumped back surprised, stumbled two steps and then he fell out.

The Corsair rolled to his back, a painful moan escaping him. Every bone in his body hurt and he had trouble breathing. It took him a moment to let the cool air back in his lungs. He was seeing stars. Quite literally. There were constellations in the sky above him. Unfamiliar stars but he remembered his Academy days, where they had learned to navigate the universe. Time and space left distinct footprints. No two skies where the same at any given time of this infinite universe and Time Lords knew how to tell them apart. The stars of Gallifrey looked different from the stars of Skaaro. The stars of Gallifrey looked different today than they would tomorrow, different now than they would even in an hour. Time Lords learned to identify these sometimes subtle changes. Right now... he took a random guess, he had to be somewhere around Sol 3 or Sol 4. Probably some 5 billion years after the formation of the star they called Solaris. And if he wasn't completely off, Sol 4 wasn't sustaining life at that time. None of the rocks floating around that little star were. Except Sol 3. _Earth._ Or _Dirt,_ as he liked to call it. Really, who named their planet _Earth?_ During this time, it was a tragic little world, insignificant in the greater scheme of the universe right now. The human race. They would be great one day. One of the greatest even. But they were a young species, still had much to learn and as per agreement between the three great people of the universe – the Time Lords, Adarre, and Elyssian's – they let the humans evolve on their own. No interference until they were at a level equal to theirs. It would happen eventually, just not yet. And now, of all the places, he was stranded on this rock.

He sighed frustrated, covered his face with his hands, rubbing his eyes. And when he opened them again, there was a face hovering over him. He gasped, jumped away but regretted it immediately. He collapsed into a ball of pain, cursing under his breath.

"Don't. You'll just hurt yourself," the human female said in a calm voice. He looked up. She was a brown female, with black, long hair and brown eyes that had a golden shimmer to them, it might be the light hitting them just right. She was pretty. He guessed she had to be in her thirties, maybe even late twenties, it was hard to guess with their species. She smiled. "It's been a while."

"What?" he asked irritated.

"Since you showed your face here," she replied and looked over at the crashed TARDIS. "What have you done to her? She looks pathetic and she is pissed as hell! Did you yell at her? Did you try to do manual coordinate configurations instead of using the database? You _know_ she hates that."

The Corsair listened attentively, his brows pulled together. His hand was on his chest, he still couldn't breathe properly.

"You... know me... and her?" he then asked, nodding at the crashed ship. He felt dizzy, was quite sure he'd fade any minute. The human turned back towards him, watched him a moment. He just wanted to speak again, but before he could, he fell backwards exhausted.

"Oi! Don't get so comfortable in my salad. Don't you have places to be, people to save?" she asked. He felt hands pull him to his feet, heard another voice, a male this time, and then things went dark around him.

* * *

When he woke, he was momentarily confused. It took him several beats of his two hearts to remember he was on Sol 3. He was lying in a bed, there was a pot of this hot, herb infused beverage some cultures on this planet enjoyed so much, standing on a small table next to him. The room was small. Wooden furniture, colourful curtains, very rural. No surprise. This really was an underdeveloped time to be on 'Earth'. He sat up. Someone had bandaged his wounds and from the looks of it, he had not been injured enough to require regeneration. Good. He liked this body.

He heard steps and was immediately alert, reaching for his sonic tool but realized whoever had bandaged him had also removed most of his clothes and his tool. His gaze shot to an armchair in a corner, where his clothes rested neatly folded, the tool lying on the pile. And then the door opened.

The female he had seen when he dragged himself out of the TARDIS entered the room and froze when she noticed he was up. She hesitated, then went to the large wardrobe and put some freshly pressed clothes in there.

"You look better. Rested," she said.

"Yes, thanks…"

"We took a look at the ship. You had the navigation lock still on. Lee bypassed it, you should be fine now if you do the coordinates with the database. Why did you switch the lock back on anyways?"

"I didn't switch anything on. It was the default mode…" he mumbled. She watched him sceptical for a moment while he poured himself a cup of the hot beverage. He looked up. "What was it your people call this?"

"Tea," she replied, her forehead wrinkled. She tilted her head, crunched her nose a little. "What regeneration is this for you?"

"I haven't regenerated, _obviously,"_ he replied, gesturing at his face that was clearly still the same it had been the night he had crashed into her garden. She looked at him with that strange expression for a moment, before there was something new in her eyes. Realization. She took a step back, put a shaking hand over her lips.

"Oh… oh, of course… you're _younger_. That must be what you meant, when you wrote we'd meet once more. The last time for me, the first for you… Now it makes sense… and you knew all along…"

"Knew all along? Knew _what?"_ he asked, confused. She smiled.

"Where we were going. Now, drink your tea, get some rest. When you feel like it, your ship is in the garden, she's waiting for you."

"She hates me," the Corsair protested. The female laughed.

"Nonsense. She knows you now. I talked to her, it'll be fine. She won't cause trouble anymore. Trust me. As long as you use that database."

She left the room and he fell back onto the pillow. Knew _where they were going_? What on Gallifrey was she talking about, this strange human? He had to get out of here. He had to get this stubborn TARDIS running. What had she been talking about, navigation lock? Database configuration? Why would he need to use preset configurations? That was so much more work than what TARDIS ships should require. And how did she know about the TARDIS in the first place? And this… Lee she spoke about, how did _he_ know how to disable a navigation lock? How did two humans know anything about Time Lord technology, let alone about TARDIS engineering? Had some other Time Lord accidentally crashed here before and had taught them. Or… she had spoken about knowing him… had they met in a later stage in his life, but an earlier one in theirs? Was that it, were their timelines aligned the wrong way? That could explain it. But what would _possibly_ bring him to spend enough time on Sol 3 to bother teaching some random human about Time Lord Technology?

He sighed frustrated because there were no good answers. Not now at least. He took his cup of… _tea,_ took a sip and then lay down again, trying to get some rest while his healing progressed. Once he was up on his feet, he would get some answers.

* * *

Rested and dressed, the Corsair climbed down the stairs of the small farm-house. It was a beautiful day and he heard laughter outside only to find the female, a male and two children in the garden. They were pulling his TARDIS back into an upright position. Or, the male was doing the work. The Corsair watched in disbelief. The TARDIS was a heavy ship. Despite it being a separate dimension on the inside, the weight it presented was still remarkable. And he just pulled it upright with a simple construction of a wind and ropes? How strong was this male? Was he even _human?_

One of the children, the young girl, pulled on her mother's sleeve and the female looked from her over at the Corsair. She smiled.

"Look who's up. And just in time, too."

The male turned towards the visitor and nodded quietly. He was a tall bloke, a giant really, making the female by his side look tiny. His hair was light, his eyes as well, there was something… unreal about him. No, definitely not entirely human. But apparently human enough to procreate with one, because these children were obviously theirs.

"Thanks for fixing her," the Corsair said weakly.

"You're right, it clearly is early in his timeline. He still has manners," the male said to his (presumably) wife and she chuckled. The Corsair turned towards her.

"So… you know me… at a later time?"

"I do. Or, _we_ do," she added, nodding to her husband. She then reached into a bag she had been carrying around, pulled out a book bound in old, greasy leather. "I guess you'll be leaving now. I want you to have this."

"What am I supposed to do with that?"

He reluctantly took the book from her. What was he supposed to do with that shabby old thing?

"Open it."

He sighed, but did as commanded. The first page of the book was blank. The second showed a symbol, big and demanding in the centre of it. A serpent, biting its own tail. And underneath, it read in a neat handwriting: _Ouroboros' Letters_. The next page he turned made him look up at her confused. Because the very first of these letters was written in _his own_ handwriting, the accurate lines of his hand when he was not using the complex symbols of his native language, circular-gallifreyan.

"What is this?!"

"Read it," she ordered.

He read it. It was a _Good-bye_. When he looked up, she smiled. "We'll meet again, friend. You'll meet us again, we probably won't meet you again though. After every meeting… I want you to read in this book, read my letters to you. I thought I'd never get to give them to you when you just ran off to save God knows who God knows where. Now I realise… you've always known about these letters. You cheeky bastard. You always knew… I guess now I understand what you meant when you wrote this. Our story is never really over. When it ends for you, it begins anew for me. And when it ends for me, it begins for you. When you fly to the stars, Corsair, take care of yourself. Oh, and by the way."

And before he knew it, she had slapped him flat across the face.

"What is wrong with you humans?!" he declared upset.

"_That_ was for Aduín 5," she clarified. Then she got to the tips of her toes and placed her lips on his cheek quickly. "And that was for everything else."

"I really don't want to know what happened on Aduín 5…"

"You will. In due time. Now get out of here. Remember. Places to be…"

"People to save, yes, I got the idea…"

He approached his TARDIS, with the book the female had given him. He saw in the corner of his eye how the male placed and arm around her. "I don't even know your names. Abigail, is it? And... Lee?"

"You will know them! Don't worry. You will."

They turned and disappeared in their house, with their children. And when he turned back towards his TARDIS, she had opened her door for him, ready for whatever adventure might be ahead of them. He smirked. P_laces to be, people to save_...

* * *

**Author's Note:**

_A new chapter, in anticipation of the 50th Anniversary (for which I will by my cinema tickets soon!). The Corsair meets his only 'real' Companion in this one, but he doesn't know her yet ^^ Yes, I pulled a bit of a River Song with those two and the reverse timelines, but only a bit._

_I hope you had fun with the chapter, more to come soon. Drop comments if you read it or write me a message, anything is welcome really as long as I know you guys enjoy it ^^_

_Now off to new adventures, Corsair!_


End file.
